Affirmation
by DragonSapphire
Summary: Months later, standing before the drunken wreck his brother had become in the aftermath of Peter's nuclear meltdown over New York City and presumed death, it was Peter who supported Nathan as his brother all but fell into his arms when he opened the door from inside of Peter's apartment to see him standing there in the hall like a faintly sheepish ghost from his past, stunned.


Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or its characters, and make no profit from writing this story.

**Affirmation  
**

By DragonSapphire

A/N: Please note I am taking liberties with the Heroes storyline. I only recently became sucked into the show and I'm completely taken by Nathan's devotion to Peter and his inability to function without him. This takes place during Season 2.

Nathan and Peter Petrelli could blame their Italian heritage for the unselfconscious affection between the two of them, but in truth theirs was a unique bond. They had always been demonstrative, easy with hugs and kisses, while their parents' touches remained cold and aloof, calculated displays for family or editorial photos. When Peter was younger, but not so young he couldn't realize his older brother was being primed to follow in their father's footsteps, he found himself being gradually shifted into the background. He was too much of a "sensitive boy" to handle the grittier duties sometimes alluded to over terse family dinners and caught in snatches walking past his father's office on his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. Nathan's destiny ballooned into an ever-yawning chasm that would have pushed them apart sooner or later had Nathan not continually reached out and diminished that gap.

Nathan often hauled his brother against his side if Peter happened to pass by within reaching distance, an ingrained reaction even while he maintained important conversations without a blink or falter. The embrace didn't even merit acknowledgement between the brothers, regardless if Nathan had been conversing with a prestigious dignitary or acquaintance of their father's, urging the conversation forward with a winning smile as Peter slipped wraith-like from under his arm after burrowing briefly against his side, or under his chin when he finally hit his growth spurt in his late teens.

If Peter allowed Nathan's manhandling long enough for his older brother to really sink his claws in, particularly on rough days under the shadow of their father's disappointment of his weaker, less ambitious son, Nathan's thumb would stroke the tension from the back of his neck while he dropped a hard kiss against Peter's temple, his way of telling Peter, "I see you, kid. You're important," even if Peter was shoved away after in Nathan's brusque manner so he could attend to business. Even offhand love taps when Peter was bored and making a nuisance of himself were still better than his mother's clipped, "Go play in your room, Peter," or their father's slightly less frigid, "Now run along, son."

Months later, standing before the drunken wreck his brother had become in the aftermath of Peter's nuclear meltdown over New York City and presumed death, it was Peter who supported Nathan as his brother all but fell into his arms when he opened the door from inside of Peter's apartment to see him standing there in the hall like a faintly sheepish ghost from his past, stunned.

Nathan's body was wracked with tremors as he ran his fingers through Peter's newly shorn hair, the thick, unfamiliar beard around his lips leaving salt and whiskey-scented burns on his neck and cheeks as Nathan rambled to himself. A last kiss to his forehead continued on for so long Peter felt his brother was bracing himself or trying - and failing - to regain his equilibrium.

"Can't lose you, Pete," Nathan murmured without ever moving his lips away, using Peter as his anchor lest gravity steal his feet from underneath him. He felt as helpless now as he'd been when he watched from above while his wife nearly died as their car slammed into a guard rail, the driver's side empty, or when he'd been plummeting miles and miles to the earth below, burned beyond recognition while Peter exploded into a radioactive star.

"I'm here," Peter said, his voice gone rough.

Nathan kissed Peter's cheekbone and the skin beneath his earlobe in quick succession, cradling him temple-to-cheek as Nathan stared out unseeingly over Peter's shoulder, plotting out the short miserable remainder that would have been his life without Peter as his thoughts unwittingly projected themselves into his head.

Peter waited him out, his hands resting loosely on Nathan's noticeably thinner waist until his brother roughly pulled him into a one-armed hug and hauled him into the apartment. He closed and locked the door behind them, apparently losing his battle to let Peter go and put space between them.

When Heidi had nearly died after the car accident, Nathan had held her at arms-length. He barely touched his wife for the fear of breaking her, never mind he was by her side through the two hard deliveries of their sons, and later her grueling physical therapy despite knowing how fiercely able she was, even when she'd been wheelchair bound. After Peter had died, he lashed out at everyone he knew, and ambitions that had been years in the cultivating were suddenly invasive and meaningless.

He and his mother had vicious screaming matches, and one particular exchange of words that had ended in tears and broken glass and would never be forgotten nor forgiven by either of them. He failed as a husband and father, found himself clapping a hand against his sons' shoulders in the same dispassionate manner of his own father. A chill at the realization caused him to draw his hand back swiftly, the jerky movement startling his boys more than comforting them, and he could see the accepting shutters fall over their eyes as their father's distance registered in their young minds. Heidi had finally taken the boys and left to her mother's, and yet Nathan had mourned them less than his brother.

Peter had always been a wild spirit, one that Nathan had to catch and hold onto with both hands, who loved him back freely and without the fetters and expectation that accompanied an embrace from every single other individual in his life. Even when Nathan lost himself in the manipulations of politics and Linderman and his own mother, carefully molded and primed as a figure head, Peter was like a child with finger paint, smearing bright blues and reds over the chiseled sculpture of Nathan's marble bust.

Peter didn't know how long they stood there, but time didn't matter when he could stop or reverse it, almost certain he had when the space between each second hand of the crystal clock against the living room wall felt like ten hours, the slow beats of Nathan's heart against his chest the same.

Peter was nearly in a trance-like state by the time he felt Nathan move, his brother's hands coming up to cup his face while his fingers whisked softly over the light stubble on Peter's jaw. The warmth of Nathan's mouth against his own nearly didn't register until the pressure lingered longer than either of their previous kisses, Nathan's eyes opened and focused unblinkingly on his own until Peter's brain caught up to real time and his whole body jerked.

The kiss was wholly Nathan. His body was tensed and curved forward, strong squared fingers clamped on the back of Peter's skull right over the scar from a shard of broken glass that had killed him the first time, locking Peter in and not giving him a chance to pull away. Peter's hands flew up to brace against Nathan's shoulders, and Nathan allowed the briefest pause between the intimate contact of their lips, assessing Peter, his responses, until the younger man tired of the dry calculation and clamped his own hand against the hard tendon at the base of Nathan's skull and opened his mouth to him, a wonder that Nathan wasn't giving himself a migraine by holding himself so tense.

The slump of Nathan's shoulders was instantaneous, and Peter huffed out a moan when Nathan released his head only to gather him up in his arms, kissing his breath away. Peter turned his brain off and wrapped himself in his brother's warmth and possessive affection. He ached for the ability to regenerate oxygen without ever needing to take a breath, each brief but necessary separation for air a fracture in Peter's soul.

They made out heatedly, not realizing they were moving until Peter tumbled onto his back on the unmade bed that had clearly been slept in recently, but not by him - neither of their feet having touched the floor. Nathan braced himself above him, ignoring the awkward sprawl of their limbs as Peter scrambled for purchase with one foot against the floor and the other sneaker tangled up in the bed sheets.

Peter gave up on becoming situated in a more comfortable position when Nathan settled his weight on top of him, pinned beneath his more muscular build. Nathan licked at Peter's lower lip probingly, and Peter retaliated with an unexpectedly sharp nip that startled a rusty laugh from the older man. They were grinning when they reached for each other at the same time, stripping the other of clothes between hungry kisses. Peter couldn't help wondering at the urgency he felt now as he flung off his shoes and Nathan's belt while both of their hands were entangled with each other's dark hair, the items hitting the wall with dull thumps and barely missed taking out a lamp.

Previous relationships and encounters ticked through his mind, trying to find the equivalent passion from his very first awkward kiss behind middle school bleachers with a girl he couldn't remember the name or face of now, to fraught embraces with Simone salt-tinged with sadness, to the literally electrifying ones from Elle, and finding them all coming up short. Even Caitlin, as passionate and assertive as her Irish roots demanded, was no match.

The full removal of their clothing was sidetracked with the first contact of skin. Peter shuddered, shocked by the heat that pulsed through him when Nathan's hand splayed over his exposed ribs and swept across his chest to firmly cup his throat, his pulse thrumming against his fingers. His throat constricted from the way Nathan looked at him like he was something brand new and amazing. This sort of illicit and heady contact between them was new, of course. Emotions and abilities and death forced them closer together than simply sharing the same blood ever could.

He felt the long, heavy weight of Nathan's arousal steady against his thigh, but his brother didn't flex into him or grind away the pressure. His was a comfortable presence and mirror of Peter's own erection curving into the broad angle of his hipbone through their pants.

For a long while, they did nothing more than silently touch and awe at the smooth unbroken skin that for both had been charred and blistered until the assimilation of Claire's healing ability and an infusion of Adam's blood, respectively, had healed them both. Peter tugged his fingers through Nathan's beard and teased, "You look - and smell - homeless."

"You look respectable." Nathan countered, scrubbing his hand over the top of Peter's head as the other man rolled his eyes, pleased that his beautiful brother's face was now unobstructed by the fringe of hair he used to hide behind.

Eventually their gentle touches sharpened and their softly smiling mouths turned to bite crescents into flesh when the heat between them intensified to nearly unbearable levels. Peter even check to make sure his skin wasn't glowing with nuclear activity.

Peter's low moans sent a thrill through Nathan, proof that his brother was here, breathing and gloriously _alive_. He thrust their bare, leaking cocks together when Peter's telekinesis ripped through the seams of their remaining garments, which then ignited and rained down to the carpet in flakes of ash for good measure. Nathan took his mouth hungrily, feeling Peter's body become slick and his muscles flex as he held onto his brother and pushed back. They touched carelessly and raked shallow furrows into each other's skin that stung briefly on Peter before they disappeared, and lingered on Nathan's skin as a reminder for them both.

The first light of dawn signaled the transition of pure animal instinct into the cold deliberation of man. Nathan finally fucked Peter face-to-face, settled between his brother's thighs with calm in their eyes as they watched each other through the burn of Nathan's fingers preparing him followed shortly by the first thrust of his cock, Nathan sinking fully inside. Peter's mouth slanted into a strained grin at the familiarity of the challenge as Nathan watched him unblinkingly through narrowed eyes, silently daring each other to hold out the longest, a juvenile staring contest offset by some very adult activities.

"What?" Nathan husked out, his voice gone to gravel even as an answering tug pulled at his own attractively-shaped lips.

"Nothing," Peter answered just to be contrary, even though everything - from the press of his fingertips into Nathan's shoulders to the warm clench of his body pulling him further inside, spoke of everything.

Peter could tell Nathan wanted to roll his eyes, but manfully restrained himself. Instead he rolled his hips, nearly shoving the top of Peter's head into the headboard as his body arched in a severe curve, a startled cry stripping his throat. His legs fell open as Nathan pounded into him, his hips slamming down in an effort to force them even closer together, even as Nathan's hands bunched into the pillow underneath Peter's head and maintained a steady, brutal pace. Sweat dripped off his face and rolled down his arms, bathing Peter in heady pheromones until all he could breathe in was the pure scent of Nathan and sex.

His orgasm came suddenly in the split second between thrusts, lasting long until Nathan's arms began to tremble and his pistoning hips slapped against Peter's backside with bruising force. Peter preemptively despaired for his healing ability that even now didn't allow more than a few seconds of erotic pain before the various aches faded into a memory. He knew he would be denied the physical evidence of their joining that was too brutal for fucking, and too visceral for love-making, taking and claiming all that he was, giving Nathan everything.

Nathan finally began to slow even though Peter could feel he was still painfully erect. He pulled Nathan into his arms and his brother collapsed against him willingly, still moving with hard, slow grinds that made Peter's brain fuzz. Peter knocked their mouths together and let Nathan suck the remaining breath from his lungs, already beginning to shiver as Nathan breathed out with a shudder and began to fill him with sloppy pulses of come.

They wound down gradually, no longer kissing but panting breath between their lips. Peter's hand came up to trace the crinkle of lines that fanned out from his brother's hazel eyes, the proud expression on his face echoing the childhood memory of Peter's first attempt at Nathan's name through toothless gums ("Nat'n!"), his first homerun, the first gold star on his homework, the time he ran home from prom regaling the loss of his virginity to his big brother, answered with the same proud smile but with a faint echo of melancholy at how fast he'd grown.

They untangled enough to both lay down fully on the wrecked mess of Peter's bed, but Nathan immediately drew him into his arms, the soft hair on his chest brushing against his back while his thumb stroked slow circles into the damp skin below Peter's navel, sticky with come.

Peter watched the first light of dawn spear through the plastic blinds over his window, the warm rub of Nathan's hand shifting to move up and down his arm steady and comforting. As each minute passed, thoughts he had suppressed gradually started to trickle in. Nathan had his wife and family, his life to rebuild and image to stabilize after it had all continued to fall apart after they had saved the world. Peter had his own continuing efforts to understand and control a continuous stockpile of abilities and put an end to Sylar once and for all. They both had lives that didn't fit with the stigma incest would place upon them, never mind what their mother would say if she found out.

Peter's eyes shifted to the clock on the wall that ticked away, uncaringly resuming the passage of time that would carry them further away from this one moment that would forever echo down the bond between them, yet may never again repeat. Peter's eyes narrowed and Nathan's hand on his bicep stilled the same moment as the second hand on the clock face became frozen.

One tick backward, Nathan's hand moved down to rest against his wrist. Another, and the light from the window began to fade.


End file.
